


Kinktober Day 12: Tentacles

by WitchOfTheWestCountry



Category: Slender Man Mythos
Genre: F/M, Stalking, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 18:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12326898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchOfTheWestCountry/pseuds/WitchOfTheWestCountry
Summary: Amethyst has moved into a house near some woods, and is stalked by a mysterious man.





	Kinktober Day 12: Tentacles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Amethystwinchesterpanda](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Amethystwinchesterpanda).



> Part of Kinktober on Tumblr. Written for the real Amethyst.  
> Always wanted to do Slender Man....

“How can you stand looking out at those when it gets dark?”

Amethyst had to admit that the woods at the back of her new house were pretty spooky, but that's why she loved them. She'd always loved that spooky shit.

She shrugged.

“I like them. They look like the sort of place the Blair Witch would hang out. Wouldn't mind meeting her. We could chill.”

Her friend cast a sideways glance at her, the sort of look Amethyst always got from her:  _ You're weird _ , it said.  _ I don't know why I'm your friend. _

Amethyst didn't care. As far as she was concerned the woods were the best thing about the house. During the day, she could sit at the window and watch birds and squirrels populating the branches. At dusk, bats swooped above the tree tops, foxes threaded between the trunks and a family of badgers roamed in the undergrowth.

It was starting to get dark now, and Amethyst was looking forward to seeing the foxes. The vixen looked like she was pregnant, and if she was, Amethyst could look forward to seeing fox cubs frolicking about soon.

She said as much to her friend, but Lucy was unimpressed.

“Fox cubs are cute, but I'd rather see them on TV….” she said, getting ready to leave. “You can keep your creepy woods. I'm going back into town, where there are lights and people and Starbucks.”

 

Amethyst settled herself down by the window. The glow of her laptop screen provided enough light to be cosy as she kept half an eye on the woods, watching out for movement as she browsed.

The foxes hadn't made an appearance, although she'd seen what looked like an owl flying overhead.

It was too dark out there to see properly, and she wished it wouldn't be counterproductive to put some motion sensor lights out there.

She half dozed as she scrolled down her dash on Tumblr, getting tired but unwilling to go up to bed. Night time was her favourite time. She'd rather sleep during the day.

There was movement on the edge of the woods, a paler spot between the trees, and she lifted her head, wondering what it was. Another owl? A snowy, maybe, sitting on a branch high up. It was just a vaguely oval, white blur, seeming to hang in the darkness and she wished she had some binoculars.

She was craning her neck and squinting, face nearly pressed to the glass, when her computer blipped, telling her she had an email.

Tearing herself away from the possible owl, she checked her gmail account. There was a short message from the previous tenant of her house.

 

_ “Hi! Was wondering if it would be okay to swing by tomorrow and pick up the rest of my stuff? Around lunchtime? Jake and I finally found another place so I can take it all off your hands….” _

 

Amethyst sent off a quick affirmative.

The woman had left in a hurry - business, she said - and had stored some of her belongings in the shed. Amethyst had no idea what business she was in but from the look of her she ought slow down. She’d looked exhausted.

Her son, Jake, was just as bad. About 5 years old and as haggard looking as his mother, clutching a threadbare stuffed toy like it was a life preserver, staring at her with huge, haunted eyes.

The pair of them had made Amethyst feel uncomfortable. They reminded her of photos taken of people who’d just survived a disaster.

 

The owl, or whatever it had been, had gone.

Amethyst took this as a cue to go to bed, shutting down her laptop.

She was considering getting hold of some motion activated cameras to see if she could film the wildlife, but didn't know how much they were likely to cost.

Yawning, she took a final look at the woods and went upstairs.

  
  


“How are you settling in?” asked the woman.

Her name was Janice, and she looked better on her return, like she'd gotten some decent sleep at last.

“Great!” said Amethyst. “I love those woods!”

“Yeah, they're….interesting,” said the woman, her smile slipping a notch.

“I bet your son misses them,” said Amethyst. “All the wildlife and everything…”

“Oh, he never paid much attention to the woods,” said Janice. 

She spoke easily enough but her eyes slid away uneasily, as if she were lying.

“He wasn't allowed near them. Too many weirdos around these days,” she added by way of explanation.

Amethyst supposed she was right, but if she was 5 years old, nothing would have stopped her from exploring them.

Janice had nearly finished loading up her car. The boxes she'd left behind were full of clothes and toys and cooking utensils  - essential items for a single mother and her child that seemed odd to store - but it was none of Amethyst’s business. She helped the woman with the last of her belongings and stood back as she slammed the trunk shut.

Janice turned to her, looking thoughtful.

“Have you had any problems with your electricity supply or internet?” she asked, watching Amethyst’s response keenly.

“What? No. Why?”

Janice shrugged.

“We used to get problems. Blackouts. Interference with the TV signal. That kind of thing. The landlord never sorted it out - said he couldn't find anything wrong. Just thought I'd ask.”

She opened her car door and paused as she was about to climb in.

“Be careful, Amethyst,” she said. “It can be dangerous out here for a woman living alone….”

Amethyst smiled.

“Thanks, but I'm not worried. I can take care of myself.”

Janice nodded doubtfully, glancing at the woods.

“Okay. Well, good luck!”

Then she was gone, pulling away with speed that sprayed the gravel up behind her car wheels.

 

That night, almost as if it was due to Janice mentioning it, there was a power cut.

It started with the lights flickering, stuttering on and off annoyingly.

Amethyst sat by the window with her laptop balanced on her knees. It was fully charged, so when the power eventually cut off she didn't bother to search for candles, just continued scrolling. She was comfortable and warm, snuggled under a blanket, and couldn't muster up the energy to move.

Every few minutes, she glanced at the window. With the lights off, she could see the forest more clearly, and a full moon cast its silvery glow over the area. There had been a chill in the spring air when she’d gone out earlier, the last of the winter hanging on by its fingernails, so there weren’t as many animals about tonight. It was a shame, and if she hadn’t been so cosy she might have gone out exploring, taking herself to the wildlife. The darkness didn’t bother her - in fact it added an extra thrill of possible danger that she’d always found exciting.

The screen on her laptop flickered, and this finally stirred her temper.

“Don’t you fucking give out on me now,” she growled.

As if in response, it went fuzzy, blurring out of focus.

“Hey! What did I just say?”

She clenched her fist helplessly. If her internet fucked up that was a lot more serious than her electricity.

Frustrated, she looked out of the window again, and froze.

The thing from before was back, and with the brighter moonlight she could see it wasn’t an owl after all. It looked like...a man? Maybe.

She squinted across the distance, feeling a dull anger stir in her. Was there some asshole standing in the woods watching her?

She couldn’t make out many features, but he appeared to be dressed in dark clothing, a flash of white at his throat, and if the moonglow from his face was anything to go back, he was the palest motherfucker she’d ever seen.

Gritting her teeth she carefully moved her laptop aside.

She kept a baseball bat by her backdoor, and she fetched it, grabbing a strong flashlight from the kitchen counter as she went. She’d had prowlers around her apartment back in the city, and she was fucked if she was going to be harassed out here.

Tucking her cellphone into the pocket of her jeans, she brandished her bat and opened the back door.

 

The space where the man had been standing was empty now, and she hurried towards the boundary fence at the back of her property, crossing the yard with the bat raised so he could see if if he was still watching from the depths of the woods.

She scanned the treeline, peering between the trees as best she could.

“Hey, asshole,” she shouted, her voice echoing into the empty night. “You’d better stay away from my fucking house, you hear me? Try to get in and I’ll fuck you up!”

She waggled her bat threateningly.

It probably wasn’t the best course of action to take, but if he was listening she wanted him to know she wasn’t some helpless woman, holed up and frightened, fair game for his creeping and sneaking.

There was no reply, and nobody showed themself, so she started back to the house, flipping the bird over her shoulder for good measure as she went.

The lights had come back on in the house, which was good, and as she put the flashlight away and made her way to her chair she saw that her laptop screen was crystal clear again.

 

The following day, she bundled up for adventure. She’d put off exploring for far too long.

She took her bat and her phone with her as a precaution, climbing her fence and crossing the grassland between her yard and the woods. She took careful note of where the man had been standing, measuring with her eyes where she judged his head to have been, and for the first time felt a small stab of trepidation. If she was right in her calculations, the bastard was tall as fuck.

“The bigger they are, the harder they fall,” she told herself by way of reassurance, and entered the woods.

 

The first thing she noticed were the cameras. They were strapped to the trees periodically, numbered labels on each one, and she examined the first one she found curiously.

There was writing on the casing of it in whiteout, and she could make out the words: PROPERTY OF JANICE HARPER, followed by the zipcode of her own house.

Well shit. Janice had put those cameras out here.

Amethyst wondered what she’d been hoping to capture. She didn’t appear to be the sort to be fond of wildlife. Hell, she gave every impression of hating the woods.

Amethyst went further, trudging along the narrow path between the thick undergrowth. The forest was well established, probably pretty old by the height of some of the trees, and dense too. The rooftop of branches overhead made it dim, and she wished she’d brought her flashlight with her.

There was a clearing up ahead, and Amethyst aimed herself in its direction, climbing a fallen branch to get there.

There was another camera on a trunk here, angled towards the clearing, and Amethyst followed the direction of the lens. There was something bright in the centre of the clearing, out of place with its primary colours in the more natural greens and browns.

It was a toy, a garish plastic action figure depicting Buzz Lightyear, cracked and covered with earth.

It was starting to look like Janice had been lying about Jake not going into the woods. Not sure what to do with it, Amethyst brushed the dirt off and crammed it into the pocket of her coat.

 

She didn’t find anything else of interest in the woods, apart from more cameras and the stunning scenery, and hunger drove her back to the house.

She was most of the way back when she started to feel like she was being followed - no physical clues, but just a creeping sensation on the back of her neck, making her feel exposed and vulnerable. She glanced back over her shoulder frequently, clutching her baseball bat for comfort, but didn’t see anything.

An idea occurred to her:

That the man in the woods had been bothering Janice, which was why she’d moved away in such a hurry and why the cameras were placed there.

Amethyst would have given anything to be able to access the footage from those cameras.

 

She tried to contact Janice, but got no reply. Seemed like the woman was done with Amethyst and her house now. Amethyst was slightly peeved that the woman hadn’t warned her about a possible trespasser. It wouldn’t have stopped her from taking over the lease, but it would have been nice if she’d dropped a few hints.

 

As night drew in, Amethyst took up her station by the window, her baseball bat propped up against her chair. She was fucked if some creeper was going to discourage her from her nature spotting.

It had started to rain as dusk drew in, and the patter on the windowpanes made her feel cozy.

She started her nightly browsing, losing herself in the deranged but entertaining world of Tumblr, the more staid, family-oriented world of Facebook, and the absorbing world of Youtube.

She was part of the way through watching a tutorial on dreamcatcher weaving that she'd somehow stumbled onto whilst viewing a documentary about coyote breeding habits, when she got an email notification.

It was from Janice, and she paused her video and opened it eagerly, hoping for some answers.

There were none - not at first glance anyway. She hadn't directly replied to Amethyst’s enquiry, but she'd copied-and-pasted some text from a folklore website and included a link at the very bottom of the page. No accompanying explanation for either.

Amethyst read the text first.

 

**Der Großmann (the Tall Man).**

 

According to legend he was a fairy who lived in the Black Forest. Bad children who crept into the woods at night would be relentlessly chased by Der Groẞmann, who wouldn’t leave them be until he either caught them or they were forced to tell their parents of their wrongdoing. Even then, there is a chilling account from an old journal dating from about 1702:

 

“ _ My child, my Lars… he is gone. Taken, from his bed. The only thing that we found was a scrap of black clothing. It feels like cotton, but it is softer… thicker. Lars came into my bedroom yesterday, screaming at the top of his lungs that "The angel is outside!" I asked him what he was talking about, and he told me some nonsense fairy story about Der Großmann. _

_ He said he went into the groves by our village and found one of my cows dead, hanging from a tree. I thought nothing of it at first… but now, he is gone. We must find Lars, and my family must leave before we are killed. I am sorry, my son… I should have listened. May God forgive me.” _

 

Amethyst suppressed a little shudder. What the actual fuck….?Janice hadn't struck her as a particularly superstitious woman. Was she fucking serious?

Amethyst found herself glancing reluctantly towards the woods, half expecting to see some gangly freak goose-stepping over her fence and rampaging towards her house. There was nothing, and she scolded herself for being jumpy.

Settling back down, she clicked the blue link at the end of the email, wondering if it was a link to a website about the Child Snatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, but instead she was taken to a screen that showed cctv footage, each panel bearing a cam number and a timestamp.

Amethyst checked the dates, noticing that they were all recordings rather than real-time footage, and for some reason this made her feel a creeping relief.

She clicked on the first one.

The picture was crisp and clear, showing a view of the woods from the outskirts, and she guessed it was the camera she'd first come across upon entering the woods. She watched for a minute or so, wondering what she was meant to be looking for, but just as her finger was paused over the button to move the footage on quicker, the picture started to go fuzzy.

It blurred and twisted, horizontal lines shooting across it, and static danced over the screen like snow, but she could see a figure, unrealistically tall with a pale face, its arms and legs long and thin. It was moving in a half stalk, half glide that was difficult for her mind to make sense of, and it was making its way towards the camera. The closer it got, the worse the picture became until it went completely black.

Fascinated, Amethyst clicked on the next one.

 

They were all similar: Interference; the tall man; the odd walk. Amethyst found the lack of clarity in the footage frustrating, straining her eyes to pick out the man's features - and it was a man, she was sure of it, though she couldn't have said why.

He was a man loitering around woods, wearing some kind of mask and walking on stilts for whatever fucked-up reason. Which was quite an achievement considering the unevenness of the ground.

The very last video was different, though, in that it had sound.

The footage was crackly from the start, the noise of electronic distortion buzzing intermittently as the picture flexed and twitched.

The tall man was stood in the centre of the clearing she'd found the action figure in,  at a sideways angle to the camera. There was a voice in the background, faint at first but getting louder as the numbers at the bottom of the screen went by.

A little boy who she assumed was Jake Harper was approaching the tall figure, confidently and with no fear. His hand was outstretched, presenting something to the man, holding it up as far as he could. It was the Buzz Lightyear toy. The tall man stooped, bending down to examine the offering, peering at it closely. He began to extend his hand to take it, but a swift figure suddenly darted into frame. It was Janice Harper, screeching her son’s name, knocking the action figure from the boy’s hand and snatching him up.

Her voice was muffled and broken by the interference, but Amethyst could make out the gist of what she was saying:

“He’s not a bad boy, damn you!” she screamed. “You leave him alone!”

The boy started to cry, thrashing in his mother’s grasp, reaching out to the tall man who made no move to pursue the woman as she backed away.

“Leave him alone!” she screamed again, backing out of shot as the man placidly watched her leave.

He looked down at the discarded action figure, then turned and walked away.

 

Amethyst sat thoughtfully as the screen went blank. Had this crazy man tried to kidnap Jake Harper? Had he been stalking them? It was starting to look like this was the case. No wonder the woman had moved away.

But she was evidently crazy. It was a man in a mask, for fuck’s sake, not some mythical forest creature!

Amethyst sighed, looking out into the rain-smeared darkness, and reached a decision.

 

She approached the fence. The rain had eased off to a fine drizzle, a soft mist that floated gently down over her.

Amethyst took a deep breath and called out into the woods, projecting her voice as best she could, trying to use a tone that was non-confrontational and unthreatening.

“Hey!” she yelled. “Dude! I don’t know if you’re out there, or if you can hear me. Or if you can understand me, even. But I wanted to let you know: If you’re looking for the little boy, he doesn’t live here any more. He moved away. I live here now. I’m a grown woman, and I am not afraid of you. You hear me? You have to leave. There aren’t any little kids for you here.”

She waited, but there was no response, and with a shrug she went back into the house. She’d told him. She wasn’t sure what else she could do.

 

She didn’t watch the footage again. She thought she’d gotten as much information as she need about Janice’s situation and understandable paranoia. She tried to focus on her previous activities, but the dreamcatcher weaving wasn’t doing anything for her any more. Chastising herself for her interest, she started to browse German folklore.

 

She must have dozed off, because when she woke up again the lights were out, her laptop screen blank. Her neck was stiff from the awkward position she’d been in, and she stretched uncomfortably, trying to muster the energy to take herself off to bed.

By instinct, she looked at the window, wondering if any animals had made an appearance, but she couldn’t see the woods. The man was standing there.

The clouds had cleared at some point, uncovering a swollen moon that perfectly lit the man at her window. He was mere inches away from the glass, and even though she’d just woken Amethyst was under no misapprehension that she was dreaming: She could see him with perfect clarity.

She could see minute details - the tiny raindrops that had settled on the lapels of his jacket; a leaf caught on his shoulder, its edges curled. He wore, against all sanity, a smart black suit and tie with a stark white shirt.

She sat up, slowly, not wanting to spook him. His face was smooth and white, but not completely featureless: there was a vague suggestion of a nose and a mouth, like some kind of optical illusion made by gentle bumps and dips that were nearly imperceptible. Even though he had no eyes, she got the sense that he was watching her with keen curiosity, studying her through the dividing glass.

Amethyst stood cautiously, taking a step towards the window, examining him with equal interest. She should have been afraid, she realised, at the fact of a strange man outside her house so close, but the whole situation had an air of surrealness that overshadowed everything else.

He was fascinating. He seemed to stand out from his surroundings in sharp contrast as though he’d been superimposed onto them, his outline defined in relation to the fuzziness of the night. The material of his garments looked strange, somehow, in a way she couldn’t quite pinpoint, as though they hadn’t been woven but had simply been formed from the fabric of the universe. There were no seams, she noticed, no evidence of sewing or tailoring. They just  _ were _ .

They watched each other for an unknown time, the real world dissolving around her until only she and him existed, hanging in space, more real than anything else in existence. She went closer to the window, and it might not have been there at all -she felt no barrier between them. It was as though she could just stretch out her hand and touch him. And she  _ wanted  _ to touch him: She wanted to feel that weird cloth, touch his face, get some sense of what he was. Because he wasn’t human, she was certain of that now. But he wasn’t the Tall Man either - he was something else entirely.

If he’d had eyes, she would have said that she’d been hypnotised, but it was something similar to that. He’d enraptured her.

He moved, breaking the spell, and Amethyst took a shocked step backwards, her foot hitting her laptop where it had fallen unheeded to the floor, and she looked down in confusion to see what she’d touched.

When she looked back up, he had gone.

 

It was an obsession, that’s what it was.

Days passed, and she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. She spent all her time on her laptop, trying to find out who or what he was, and at some point during the second day she found his name.

After that, it was easier to search.

He was hidden away in historical documents, it seemed, unknown except by the most obscure scholars, his name forming over the centuries to become The Slender Man.

In Scotland they called him Fear Dubh or The Dark Man. The Dutch knew him as Takkenmann (Branch Man), and of course there was the German legend of Der Großmann.

According to many reports, he was able to stretch his limbs and torso to inhuman lengths in order to induce fear and ensnare his prey, although that hadn’t been the effect he’d had on her. She read:

“Once his arms are outstretched, his victims are put into something of a hypnotized state, where they are utterly helpless to stop themselves from walking into them.”

That sounded familiar, although his arms hadn’t been outstretched. She wondered what would have happened if the window hadn’t been there and they’d met in the open.

He’d been depicted in Brazilian cave paintings, Egyptian hieroglyphs and German woodcuts, and seemed to prey exclusively on children, but nobody seemed to be able to agree on what became of his victims.

She found photographs of him online, too, and whilst he appeared on them much as she’d witnessed, she called bullshit on the authenticity of these, as most accounts also claimed that he interacted oddly with electronic equipment and caused massive interference with audio and visual recording devices.

Still, she saved a few of these photos on in her pictures file, just for perusal at a later date.

Then there were the tentacles. Most agreed he had them, able to withdraw or extend them at will, though nobody could agree on how many he had. And they were powerful too.

Reading about the tentacles gave Amethyst a curious thrill that she couldn’t diagnose. They were so...otherworldly….

She knew she had to see him again.

 

On the evening of the third day, he hadn’t returned, and Amethyst was running on fumes and caffeine. She was waiting for him to appear again - she had torrid daydreams in which he materialised next to her bed, staring down at her with his eyeless face, and the idea sent her into a frenzy.

She went to bed and tried to sleep, but her thought processes were frantic, causing her to toss and turn within the tumult of her fantasies.

He wasn’t coming back. Had she scared him away? Was he not interested now that he knew she wasn’t a child? She couldn’t bear the thought of it.

At around two in the morning, she gave up on sleep and got out of bed. She couldn’t live like this. She was going to be proactive.

 

She dressed lightly despite the cool night, wearing loose clothing - a dress instead of her usual jeans - and this time she didn’t take her baseball bat or her flashlight with her.

She did take a picnic blanket, however. She had the Buzz Lightyear toy that Jake had tried to give him wrapped up in the blanket, for reasons she couldn’t quite identify, but she’d also brought an offering of her own she thought he might like: A figurine of Jack Skellington from A Nightmare Before Christmas. It looked a little like him.

She struck out in the vague direction of the clearing, following the trail of cameras as a guide until she found a familiar path.

The circular gap in the forest was deserted, and she went directly to the centre, laying her blanket out with the two toys at the corners, and sat down on it to wait.

The wind had picked up, stirring the leaves overhead so it sounded like they were hushing the world, and Amethyst shivered in her thin dress.

He  _ had  _ to come. She couldn't live with her obsession. Having seen him, verified his existence - how could she go back to her ordinary life?

She closed her eyes, feeling goosebumps rising on her skin.

“Come on….” she whispered to herself. “Please!”

It felt like an eternity that she waited, with no way to tell how much time had passed, but then it happened: The wind stilled as suddenly as if she'd been enclosed in a bubble, and the trees fell silent.

Amethyst kept her eyes closed, not wanting to break the fragile spell. She could feel a strange thrum of energy beginning in the pit of her stomach, like the pulse of the forest was centred in her, and her own sap rose in sympathy with it. Her skin tingled, putting her in mind of the time she'd been camping as a thunderstorm brewed, and she caught her breath up in a snatch, holding it.

He was coming. The rush of her blood pounded in her ears as he approached with the inexorable, unlikely force of a weed pushing its way up through the cement of a sidewalk.

She opened her eyes, letting out her breath in a rush.

He stood there in front of her, just as real as before - realer, with no barrier between them. His long arms hung down at his sides as he stared at her, the almost-smooth egg of his face tilted slightly to the side. He was curious, she thought, maybe because he was accustomed only to children.

“Hello,” she said, the silence etched between them seeming to swallow her words. “I brought you some gifts. Here - This was what Jake wanted to give you. And this - “

She laid her hand on the Jack Skellington figurine.

“ - This is from me.”

He bent in the middle, swooping down to peer at it. She didn't know how she knew it, but she could tell it pleased him.

“Do...do you know what I am?” she asked him. “I'm a woman. I don't have any children for you. But I have me…..”

He straightened again, seeming to consider her. His attention sent little tremors of excitement through her body. He wasn't exerting the same kind of hypnotic force on her as he had before, but she felt his power anyway. It appeared that she fascinated him as much as he did her.

“I'm not afraid of you,” she said, simply to fill the silence. “I came out here just to see you. I, uh, heard you have some tentacles…”

He nodded slowly, seeming to exude some kind of pride and suddenly they were there, extending from behind him like fast-forwarded footage of vines growing. There were eight of them, limber as snakes, branching out on either side, and they undulated as she watched, curling and dancing for her entertainment.

“Oh, wow, they're  _ nice _ ,” she told him approvingly. “Do they have any feeling? I mean, are they like limbs?”

In reply he stretched one out towards her, lengthening it to bridge the gap, and the tip hovered in front of her face. The end was slim, coming to an almost delicate point, but it thickened further along.

She felt like he was inviting her to touch it, and she extended a cautious hand, closing her fingers around the squirming tendril.

It felt curiously muscular and fleshy, smooth against her skin, and she gave it a tentative squeeze. It flexed in her grip, twisting and prying her fingers apart easily, and she got a sense of enormous strength from it.

“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It's certainly powerful.”

Another joined it, drifting over and winding around her wrist. She kept very still. She didn't get the impression he was trying to restrain her - more that he was exploring. He lifted her hand, pulling her arm out straight, and the first tentacle trailed a line along the inside of her elbow, following the blue paths of her veins. He appeared intrigued by the delicate traceries under her skin. Did he even know what blood was? she wondered.

He moved on, focussing his attention elsewhere, and she felt a third tentacle brush her cheek, curving under her chin. For all its strength it was gentle as a cobweb, whispering over her features so softly that she was shocked when he suddenly pried her lips apart and slipped the tendril in.

It tasted earthy, but salty too, exactly how she imagined a tree that came to life would taste. It wriggled against her tongue, ran along the ridges of her teeth, and for a moment she thought he meant to push it down her throat, but just as she was about to panic he withdrew it, and she felt a strange sense of loss.

He moved slightly closer to her, and all eight of his tentacles came swarming out. Two went around her wrists, two around her ankles, and she was lifted off the blanket as if she weighed nothing.

A small squeak of shock left her throat, but he wound her in to him, holding her up in front of his face.

“What are you going to do?” she whispered.

He had four tentacles still free. He used of them to feel the cloth of her dress, twisting into the fabric, bunching it up. He lifted the hem away from her legs, hoisting it to expose the damp crotch of her panties, then letting it drop. He smoothed the material over her back.

“It’s cotton,” she mumbled, swallowing hard.

It felt odd to be suspended like this. There was no pressure on her joints as she might have expected, just a feeling of weightlessness like something she might experience in a dream or in space.

The tentacles tensed, pulling the neckline of her dress taut, then tearing it apart as easily as paper. She gasped as it opened down the front, baring her to her waist. She hadn’t worn a bra, and the shock of her exposure sent a wanton shudder of pleasure down her spine. Cold air hit the skin of her chest, peppering it in little goosebumps, really bringing home her partial nudity.

His blank face somehow exuded utter concentration as his tentacles coiled around her breasts. They felt hot against her naked flesh as they tickled her, drifting over the swells, lifting and squeezing. They brushed against her nipples - he poked at them as they stiffened, teasing them to swollen peaks, circling each one.

Amethyst bit her lip. She still wasn't sure if he was being spurred by curiosity or if he was getting some pleasure from touching her, but she wasn't complaining either way - it felt great. The tentacles were damp now, as though they were seeping minute quantities of fluid. Sap, maybe, or dew.

The tips of his tentacles tightened to make loops that tugged at her nipples, pulling them gently, then with more force, and she felt the sensation right down to her pussy, a tangled hit of heat sweeping through her. She wriggled slightly in his grip, unable to help herself, and the remaining two tentacles crept up to join the others, slithering round her waist. They made short work of the rest of her dress, ripping it right down to the hem, letting it fall open, and they stroked her bare thighs in long, ticklish waves.

They went higher, touching the outline of her ribs and her hipbones. One dipped into the shallow cup of her navel, prodding and delving, and she giggled slightly, but it soon lost interest and slipped down her belly. The other snaked around her, tapping against the ridges of her spine, travelling down to caress the cotton clad curves of her ass. It slapped gently against the spread of her cheeks, hugging the slope of the underside then worming through a leg hole.

The one in front probed gently at the waistband of her panties, testing the resilience of the elastic, then wiggled underneath, twitching as it sought out the damp crevice of her labia. She groaned as it touched the throbbing nub of her clit, her legs tensing. It stroked her almost thoughtfully, careful little brushes, and she saw his head tilt again as he registered her reaction.

“That's good,” she told him in a shaky voice in case he was wondering, and jerked as he pressed on her clit like a button.

The nature of his tentacles was fascinating: They seemed to adapt to suit their task, she realised, as the one at her clit flattened out like a small tongue and began to tease the moist channel between her legs.

Could he taste with those things? she wondered, twitching as the clever tendril lapped at her.

The one that had sneaked into her panties from behind slithered between her spread thighs, encountering the wet gape of her pussy. It hesitated at the opening, tracing the rim before plunging inside with a rush.

“Oh, fuck!”

Her entire body spasmed, and the tentacles at her wrists and ankles tightened, spread eagling her where she hung, pulling her feet further apart.

Her head fell back as the thing in her cunt kept going, drifting further up inside her. It swelled, expanding and stretching her pussy walls, filling her completely. Her body was pulled taut but she managed to cock her hips forward and the fat tentacle inside her pushed back in response. It pulsed, conveying a low hum liek a mild current of electricity, twisting inside her. The one at her clit lashed the slimy bud rapidly, whipping against it.

One of the tentacles at her breast detached, pulling at her panties, and they were torn off completely, the elastic shredding in little pops - presuably so he could get a better view.

He lifted her higher so that her groin was directly in front of the oval of his head and brought her closer.

He flicked her clit sharply, and she thrashed against her restraints, her pussy clenching around the engorged tentacle that was currently fucking her. She could feel little dribbles of cunt juice trickling out, wetting the insides of her legs and raining down onto the grass below.

He tilted her backwards until she was horizontal, and she could see the stars, dazzling and infinite. There were constellations she’d never seen before, that she hadn’t known existed in this universe. She arched her back, and the hot tongues of his tendrils snapped at her nipples.

She panted, splayed open and exposed, penetrated, tormented, her clit thrashed mercilessly. The muscles along the inside of her thighs ached as she tried to move within his embrace, speared on him, helpless.

He appeared unmoved, working her dispassionately, stirring her into a frenzy as his featureless face gazed on.

She groaned, her cunt gorged to bursting, and her body vibrated as she felt her climax approach, coaxed from every atom of her by the intriguing monster of a man. She couldn't hate him for his remove - not when it wasn't his fault, and not while he was able to produce such ecstasy.

He encased her in his coils until she couldn't even squirm, winding them round and round her, penetrating her so deeply she expected to feel his tentacle burst from her mouth, and somewhere deep within the roiling mass were still the little teasing tongues, licking the aching buds of her nipples, squirming against throbbing jut of her clit.

Amethyst screamed, the sound echoing around the treetops. The stars looked on, as emotionless as stars could only be.

 

He laid her back down on the blanket with astonishing gentleness, unwrapping her from his sinister embrace. She was a mess, her pussy oozing, her thighs coated in her own slime. He'd left nothing behind in her of himself, and she felt empty and shaken to the core.

Unable to move, she shivered as the aftershocks of her orgasm dwindled, exhausted by the strain her body had been put under.

He remained standing by her feet as she recovered, until she was eventually able to push herself up on her elbows.

“Wow….” she said faintly.

There were no marks on her, no bruises from his attentions - no evidence that he'd done anything to her but for her torn dress and shredded panties.

His tentacles were out of sight, tucked back into whatever recesses they'd sprouted from.

“What now?” she asked.

He turned away and began to stalk off between the trees.

Amethyst thought about what had happened. Thought about going back to her house and continuing with her existence, doing mundane tasks, living her life, as if none of this had happened. And there was no guarantee he'd ever return.

She struggled to her feet, shrugging off the ruined dress and stumbling after him on unsteady legs.

“Wait!” she yelled, almost sobbing. “Take me with you!”

He paused, allowing her to catch up.

“Take me with you!” she repeated. “Please?”

She ran in front of him, looking up into the area that was his face, and gasped as he spoke to her.

He didn't speak in words, but in pictures and intuitions that appeared directly in her head.

She saw a log cabin deep in the woods, children playing outside, a place where it was always the same moment of time stretched out into eternity, where people never aged or got ill. A place a human would never be able to return from.

“I understand,” she said.

He extended his hand, long pale fingers inviting her, and she took them without hesitation. A veil descended over her, as insubstantial as gossamer but with the force of centuries behind it, focussing the power of every forest in the world from the tallest tree to the tiniest leaf on a plant.

Amethyst disappeared from one world, and stepped over into another.

 


End file.
